


More Than a Man Can Bear

by halfpastmorrow



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-09
Updated: 2010-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-06 01:18:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfpastmorrow/pseuds/halfpastmorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus unwittingly neglects Severus and must deal with the results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than a Man Can Bear

It wasn't the first time Severus had wanted to kill Harry Potter, nor, he was certain, would it be the last. But it was the first time the impulse had seized him with such force. It was the look on Albus's face that had done it. Just knowing Potter had been the one to put it there, even though Albus had risked his life to save his neck, made Severus's fingers positively itch to find their way around that scrawny throat.

Aware that the sentiment would not go over well, he gritted his teeth, containing his invective, if not the anger he felt pulsating within himself. He clamped his hands on the back of the chair in front of him, and stood, white knuckled with fury, watching as Albus retreated - away from him - toward the sanctuary of his private rooms. Then, unable to watch any longer, he closed his eyes and waited for the snick of the door to tell him he was alone.

He remained there for what seemed like an eternity, his ears cocked, his anger fading, feeling more and more like a veritable shag upon a rock with every passing moment. The room seemed cold beyond reason, and a long shiver rolled down his spine. It settled in his abdomen, an uncontrolled flutter that intensified as he recalled the deep furrows etched in the old man's brow and the taut line of his mouth.

It was doubt he had seen on that normally serene countenance. But there was no place for it, not now. He had never expected to see that and had no desire to ever see it again.

When the door closed, the hollow sound matching the emptiness inside him, he recoiled, blindly taking a backward step. His eyes snapped open as he heard and felt the crunch of something splintering beneath his foot. He bent down to retrieve the item, but stopped, his eyes widening. The angry mist fogging his brain cleared further, and he took in the wreckage of the headmaster's office for the first time.

Splinters of wood and fragments of twisted metal littered the carpet, and everywhere he looked, fine shards of glass gleamed in the late morning sunlight. It looked like a table had been overturned, or perhaps, and he thought this more likely, hurled to the floor. Admittedly, Potter hadn't managed to wreak half the havoc that had been left by the meeting Albus had held with Fudge and Umbridge earlier in the year, though the physical damage was not the worst injury he had wrought. But he was barely more than a child, and the destruction was reminiscent of that left in the wake of a hurricane.

_Hurricane Potter_, Severus thought, the accompanying jolt of laughter helping to re-establish his equilibrium.

A bright flash of light from near the hearth caught his eye as he straightened up. It was the lunascope that he had presented Albus with after returning from a trip to Egypt to take personal possession of a rare jar of ground mumia, or what was left of it. A cry of dismay escaping his lips, he took two quick strides toward the hearth and scooped up the lump of silver and glass that was now all that remained of the instrument. It had been his first gift, following their first separation, and though he subconsciously knew that the house-elves would repair what they could, he also knew it would never be the same. Somehow it seemed typical that yet another part of his life, however small, had now become tainted by a Potter.

Cruciatus, he decided, was too refined a torture for the brat. No, at the very least he wanted to feel the boy writhing beneath his very fingertips. A malicious smile curved his lips as he considered the opportunities that the final Potions lessons would present.

As he raised his eyes to the windows in the domed roof, the glass on the cracked face of the lunascope digging into his palm, he saw a fleeting look of sympathy on the plump, middle-aged face of the portrait of former headmistress Hilda Thistlethwaite. His stomach twisted, and bitterness rose in the back of his throat.

Oh yes, Potter would certainly pay.

*

His determination was only further fuelled when he caught Potter attempting to hex Draco Malfoy in the Entrance Hall early the next morning.

As usual, it was Albus who stayed his hand.

"It has been less than a day since Mr Malfoy lost his father," Severus said, the agitated tapping of Minerva's fingers on the arm of her chair setting his nerves on edge. "Does the boy have no compassion?"

He had been watching Minerva out of the corner of his eye as he delivered his speech and noted with approval her hiss of almost feline irritation. After all, she was the reason he was sitting in the headmaster's office explaining himself as though he were once again a student caught with forbidden potion ingredients. She opened her mouth as though to speak, and he allowed himself a tiny smirk, welcoming the chance to get in further digs about her precious Gryffindor. To his disappointment, Albus proved too quick for her.

"I believe that is precisely the point, Severus, " Albus said, his usual serene expression back on his face. "Harry is still a boy, and one who is also suffering the loss of someone dear to him."

Severus couldn't prevent the disbelief he felt from crossing his face. He didn't see how the loss of that... that murdering bastard could compare with Draco's loss, but wisely chose to keep his mouth shut. Starting yet another argument about Potter, especially in the light of Albus's current mood, wouldn't be fair, or worth it.

*

Severus entered the sitting room, still belting a light dressing gown about his waist and blinking rapidly in the bright sunlight. He was up earlier than he would have liked, considering it was a holiday morning; the sun had barely inched its way above the horizon. But he had woken up alone and, knowing he was unlikely to get anymore sleep while worrying about Albus, had dragged himself out of bed to face the day.

He had hoped to see Albus seated at the breakfast table, defying Poppy's orders by eating a full fry up and reading the _Daily Prophet_, but apparently that wasn't to be. Albus was not sitting at the breakfast table beneath the window overlooking the lake, nor was he working at the small desk tucked into the corner nook, and Severus also noted with displeasure that though the table had been set for breakfast as usual it remained untouched.

Never at his best in the morning, Severus yanked a chair toward him with more force than necessary and sat down with a tooth-rattling thump. At the exact instant his bottom hit the seat, or so it seemed, a fresh pot of tea appeared in front of his right hand. He picked it up and poured himself a cup. He blew on the steaming liquid, then drank, his eyelids fluttering shut at the first wash of tea over his tongue.

He continued to sip his tea, staring blankly at his empty plate for a minute or so before muttering, "Toast." A pile of buttered toast appeared on his plate, thickly sliced just the way he liked it, along with a variety of spreads. Working mostly on autopilot, he selected the pot of marmalade, spread a thin layer on the top slice and commenced chewing, his attention diverting back to the empty desk.

He knew Albus preferred to work in the sitting room rather than in his office where he was under the constant scrutiny of his predecessors, but the small desk lacked its customary clutter and the door to his study was cracked open a few inches. As far as Severus was concerned, the only reason Albus would choose not to work in the study was because there was something he felt he could not discuss with him. There were no prizes for guessing what, or rather who, that one thing was.

He had expected things to improve after the students vacated the castle, and for a few blissful days that had appeared to be the case. But then the first letter from Lupin had arrived. While Albus had chosen not to divulge the contents, they were clearly troubling him. Enough, Severus decided, was enough.

He spread a thick layer of jam on the next slice, cut it on the diagonal and wedged the pieces on the edge of the cup on Albus' side of the table. He stood and filled the cup, topping up his own at the same time for good measure. Then, carefully juggling both cups, he made his way over to the study door and nudged it open with his shoulder.

He didn't enter the room straight away but paused in the doorway to try and gauge Albus's mood. Albus sat at his desk, head bowed over a mess of paper. As Severus came closer, he could see that various reports had been layered over the top of the _Daily Prophet_ with Lupin's latest letter lying in the very centre. It was this last that held Albus's attention.

"Albus," he said, setting his own cup down on a spare corner of desk with a deliberate clatter.

When Albus didn't respond, he leaned in and placed the cup and saucer on top of the letter where it couldn't help but be seen, laying a brief hand on top of the other man's shaggy mane.

"Ah, Severus," Albus said. He reclined against the back of his chair, tipping his face toward Severus, and offered him the smallest twitch of lips that could possibly be considered a smile. "Mothering me again."

Severus picked up his cup and perched one hip on the same corner of the desk. "Someone needs to or you'll work," or worry, he thought privately, "yourself to death."

Albus' smile became a touch more substantial, but the moment was short-lived. As he reached for the cup, his eyes fell on the letter again, and he shifted the saucer off the page as he began to drink.

"Just tell me, Albus," Severus said. "As you so obviously need to talk to someone, it may as well be me." He was aware his offer sounded grudging, but he could not force any more enthusiasm. "Is he sending the letters?"

There was no need to elaborate on who 'he' was. There was only one person who was wedged uncomfortably between them, now that Black was dead.

"Harry has sent the letters every three days as requested."

"Then I assume, as Molly Weasley has not been here demanding his rescue, that those Muggles he lives with have not been mistreating him."

"His letters have been less than forthcoming, but no, I do not believe he is being physically harmed." Albus removed his spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose. "But they don't contain any personal information. Nor has he tried to contact his friends. The reports from those watching the house are not encouraging either. They all suggest that apart from meals and chores he spends most of his time in his room."

"I see," Severus said, but he wasn't sure he did. The days he had managed to spend holed up in his room with a good book were some of his most treasured memories. It was something he rarely had the opportunity to do, then or now.

"Severus," Albus said, "Harry is not you. Reading has only ever been an option for him when he is left with no other recourse. I had hoped that he would take advantage of his freedom to write to his friends this summer. I fear he is brooding instead."

"Naturally; that is what adolescents do best."

"Severus."

"Mmm," he replied, casting about for a way to change the subject. He slid the newspaper out from under the other papers and flipped to the front page.

The headline blared 'Death Eaters Attack the Ministry', atop a picture of Fudge's jovial face.

He snorted. "I see that our esteemed Minister has finally decided to announce that they are investigating the possibility of Death Eater involvement in the attack on the Ministry."

He glanced up to find Albus watching the repetitive motion of an instrument that sat on the far side of the desk while his fingers smoothed and re-smoothed the crumpled corner of Lupin's letter. The row of balls was suspended on fine metal wire, clacking endlessly back and forth. Severus's eyes began tracking the movement as well, and not for the first time, he wondered what arcane magic was contained in that particular piece.

"Have I failed him, Severus? His behaviour has barely been rational at times this year. Tell me, in trying to protect him, have I merely primed him to become that which we would most fear?"

"The boy should be grateful you have managed to keep him alive this long. It has not been easy."

"Perhaps," said Albus. "Yet while he stubbornly refuses to take any counsel but his own, I can't help wondering if my interference has not already set his feet on the wrong path. It would not be the first time."

Severus doubted whether that was true - Potter was too much like his father to come out of this smelling of anything but roses - but he wasn't at all sure whether Albus was solely talking about Potter anymore. His mouth felt suddenly dry.

"Albus," Severus said, and covered Albus's hand with his own, stopping its restless movement, "you cannot hold yourself responsible for the choices other people make. No matter what they are."

*

A gust of wind caught Severus before the disorientation of Apparition had time to fade, sending him stumbling across the muddy ground. He fetched up against one of the trees ringing the small clearing, breathing heavily as he fumbled for his wand so he could loosen the charm on his mask. As he slipped it free, he felt icy pellets bite his skin, the wind driving them against his face in stinging waves.

For once he was glad to be wearing the thick black cloak and ducked his head, drawing the hood further over his face as he wound his way through the trees. The closer he got to the road, the fiercer the wind blew, tugging open his cloak no matter how tightly he pulled it about himself.

The clearing was closer to Hogsmeade than Hogwarts, and when he reached the road, he could see the lights of the town as a yellow haze above the rise in the road, tempting him to spend a few hours there, warm and dry, waiting for the storm to blow itself out. But he wasn't in any mood to face the revelry of the Three Broomsticks tonight, so he cast a basic shielding charm to keep out the wind and the rain and, securing it firmly about him, commenced the weary trek to Hogwarts.

He knew even before he reached the grounds that the charm had been a mistake. It was a struggle to keep it in place, the wind twisting and lifting, pulling it askew every time his mind wandered. It should have been a solid barrier, but the constant battering had torn the fabric of the spell so it leaked like a sieve. The rain gathered on the outside, then seeped through the holes in large droplets that soaked through his cloak. But he stubbornly clung to the tenuous protection the shield offered, even after he was no longer sure he would have been wetter if he hadn't used it.

His knees trembled with exhaustion by the time he reached the castle steps, and he dropped the shield with relief once the main doors were safely shut behind him. It didn't seem much warmer inside the castle. As he shivered his way along the draughty corridors to the headmaster's rooms, all he could think about was the warmth that Albus's presence would bring.

When he pushed open the door, he found Albus staring into the hearth, his shoulders stiff with tension. He started as the creak of the door interrupted his thoughts, his eyes widening in apparent surprise as he saw Severus framed by the doorway, the carpet soaking up the drips from his cloak as his cold-clumsy fingers fumbled with the clasp.

Albus stood agape for a moment before hurrying toward him. "Here, let me help you," he said, batting Severus's frozen hands out of the way. "What has happened?"

Now it was Severus's turn to gape. He couldn't believe the man hadn't noticed the storm; even inside, the howl of the wind was loud enough to drown out the normal sounds of the office. "It's blowing a gale out there."

"Is it?" Albus asked with a faint frown. He glanced up toward the rain-splattered windows. "I must confess, I hadn't noticed."

He slipped around behind Severus, tugging the cloak from his shoulders. "Though it does sound a bit loud, now you mention it."

He took the mask that Severus still clutched in one hand, and shut the door, hanging the mask and cloak on a peg next to his own gaudy travelling clothes. Severus felt an overwhelming surge of affection for the matter of fact way the other man handled the Death Eater costume. There were no secrets or skeletons between them. He would have followed Albus anywhere in that moment, but Albus only led him into the sitting room.

"You look exhausted," Albus said, not really looking at Severus's face as he ran his thumb across Severus's cheekbone, "Did something happen?"

Severus shook his head. "Nothing in particular." He didn't need to be witness to death or torture for one of these meetings to leave him feeling limp and drained. It was enough that he was a spy in an enemy camp.

Albus dragged the fingers of one hand through Severus's damp hair, thumbing aside the tendrils that clung to his face, while he felt the collar with the other.

"Well, why don't you get out of the rest of these wet things while I get you something else to wear, then you can tell me about it," he said, then was gone before Severus had a chance to reply.

Listening to the faint sounds of Albus moving about in the next room, he stooped to unlace his boots, then toed them off, standing first on one foot and then on the other as he began to unbutton his robe.

He was standing next to the fire in only his socks and faded linen underthings, his boots steaming on the hearth, by the time Albus returned with a bathrobe.

"Here." Severus turned to find Albus holding up the robe by the collar so he could slip his arms into the sleeves. Then, once the robe was on, he pushed a pair of socks into Severus's hand saying, "Socks too," and gave him a gentle shove toward the settee.

Severus stared after him, watching him bustle about the room. First to the table where he conjured a cup of tea, then over to the liquor cabinet where he fetched a bottle of brandy, and then back again, adding a generous dash to the cup. Albus was always solicitous, but this was something else.

He was still pondering this when he felt Albus's hand beneath his elbow steering him to the settee and settling him down on it. "Albus, is there something wrong?"

Albus met his eyes and then looked away. "No, no, nothing to worry about." He passed Severus the cup.

"Albus," Severus said, protesting faintly as Albus sat down beside him; he knew that something was bothering him.

But Albus ignored him as he shifted further down the couch, drawing Severus's feet into his lap. "So," he said, peeling off first one wet sock and then the other, "was Voldemort present?"

Severus took a gulp of the tea, and immediately regretted it. "How much brandy did you put in this?" he asked, exhaling on a gasp.

"Just enough to warm you, no more," Albus replied, but Severus could already feel the burn working its way down to his stomach, heating him from the inside out.

Albus picked up his right foot and bent it at right angles, his warm hands soothing the clammy skin as he dug his thumbs into the flesh just below the ball of the foot. Severus lifted the cup to his lips once more and slid down on the settee until the back of his head rested on the juncture between the back and the arm.

"He was there. He always is, but he closets himself in a side room with only his closest advisors. Meanwhile, the others are growing restless, the new recruits especially. He promised to fulfil their darker desires, yet to date the only sport has been had by select members of the old guard. Oh, to be sure, some joined with larger goals in mind, but most only want to slake their thirst for other people's pain. The authorities know he has returned, so they do not understand why he still waits."

"His plans?" Albus asked, palpating the other foot now.

"I am no closer to discovering them. He does not fully trust those of us who remained unfettered," Severus answered, with a grimace both for the irony of the situation as well as the exquisite pleasure pain of Albus's hands working on his instep. "He has us rehash the old stories instead."

None of this was new information, not even for Albus, and Severus did not care to relive the details a second time this evening. He let the hand holding the cup drop to his lap and closed his eyes, languor stealing through him as the brandy and the foot massage worked their magic.

He next opened his eyes a few minutes later as the movement of the hands on his feet slowed, and caught Albus staring blankly at something positioned just behind his ear. Craning his head around, he followed Albus's gaze to a pile of official looking papers.

"I see the exam results have arrived," he said, turning back around.

"Yes," Albus replied, still looking at that space beside Severus's ear.

"I take it Mr. Potter's results did not go to plan."

"Minerva said that he has aspirations of becoming an Auror."

Severus tensed, waiting for the inevitable. "Yes, she mentioned something."

"Unfortunately, his Potions mark..."

Severus thrust himself upright, jostling the cup on his lap, and tried to jerk his foot out of Albus's hands. "No, Albus, no. I refuse to continue to make exceptions for him. There have been enough exceptions made already."

Albus patted his foot. "Yes, you are quite right, I'm sure. Quite right," Albus said, but his voice dragged as though it had been weighted down with something heavy.

"Albus."

"Don't worry about it, my boy. I'm certain there will be lots of opportunities for Harry once he leaves Hogwarts."

The forced joviality in his voice set Severus's insides acrawl, and he slid down again, flinging an arm over his face. He had never yet been able to refuse the headmaster's requests; it seemed that this time would be no different.

*

Awareness came slowly to Severus. At first, he was only aware that it was still dark and he was lying half across Albus, Albus's shoulder tucked beneath his chin, his hand splayed on Albus's chest, and Albus's beard flowing over his shoulder. Then he became aware of the moist heat of Albus's breath on his forehead, and that the rise and fall of his chest wasn't the simple rhythmic pattern of sleep.

He opened his eyes and let them slowly adjust to the dim light. The window was open, and a beam of moonlight streamed though the gap in the shifting curtains. Albus lay staring up at the drapery, his expression grave, and Severus sighed, knowing he was thinking about Potter again.

"Albus." The word almost sounded like a second sigh, and Albus brought his hand up to stroke the back of his head.

He nudged himself more firmly against Albus' side, his hand sliding across the furry chest until it caught on the nipple. He circled the aureole, feeling it rise beneath his fingers.

He didn't want to have this conversation, not now. Not in their bed. Yet neither could he suffer this division between them any longer. The words, "What are you thinking about?" fell out of his mouth unbidden.

In the moment of absolute silence that followed, he could feel Albus's hesitation mushroom between them, increasing the divide. He squeezed the nipple between thumb and forefinger; a petty vengeance that he regretted as soon as the moment had passed. Even more so when he heard the choked noise Albus made.

He leaned up on one elbow, raising his hand to the one face whose expressions he knew better than his own.

"Talk to me, Albus," he said, smoothing the lined forehead in the only apology he was able to offer.

"I have decided that it would be better for Harry to go to Grimmauld Place." The darkness shadowed Albus's eyes, making his expression unreadable, yet for all that his words sounded decisive, his tone did not.

"Is that wise?" he asked, shifting one thigh between the other man's. He pressed his lips to Albus's, a gentle kiss with the barest flick of tongue. "I thought it had been decided that he would no longer be safe there now that the house has no master to bind Kreacher."

Tension thrummed through them both. He held himself up, taut, awkward, not trusting enough to relax onto the body beneath him. Then Albus sighed, and he felt a comforting hand slide down to the swell of his buttocks, and he found he could.

Their lips met again. A deeper kiss, but just as gentle, two sets of tongues and lips working in harmony. When they parted, Albus brushed his thumb across his lips and Severus sucked it in, sliding his lips carefully over the swollen knuckle before releasing it.

"It is not, but he cannot remain with his relatives any longer."

"Has something changed?"

"You know it has not," Albus said, dipping his fingers in and then out of the cleft between Severus's buttocks. "However, the situation cannot be allowed to fester any longer."

Severus slid down, taking lips, tongue and teeth to Albus's chest and the shallow hollow of his belly. "Mollycoddling the boy serves no purpose, Albus."

The soft flesh beneath his lips tensed. "I do not consider it to _be_ mollycoddling."

"He will not be grateful." Severus said, as he shifted to lie between Albus's thighs, his hand toying with a nipple.

"Yes, I know," Albus said, the quaver in his voice, making Severus's own throat ache. "Though perhaps, given time, he will."

Feeling somewhat ashamed, Severus curled a hand around Albus's half-hard prick and fastened his mouth just below the head, determined he should give him no more pain tonight. Yet as Albus arched, his back bowing under the twin torments, hands fisting in the sheets, he threw his head back so that all Snape could see was the dark cavern of his open mouth amidst the moonlit silver of his beard. He couldn't see his eyes and couldn't tell whether Albus had fully surrendered to passion, or if those thoughts were still churning in his head.

He felt Albus's leg wrap around him, the heel caressing his thigh and buttocks, as he opened his mouth wider and claimed him further. And the beat of it against his back when Albus pulsed in his mouth.

Afterward as he lay wakeful, with Albus finally sleeping on his chest, he decided he was better off not knowing.

*

Severus looked up from his book at the rushing noise from the fireplace that indicated someone was Flooing in. The pinched look of Albus's face fulfilled his worst expectations.

"I told you Potter would not be grateful."

"On more than one occasion, I believe."

He winced at the sharp response, but would not let himself regret his words. Surely, Albus had to see he was taking the wrong approach now.

He got up and went over to where Albus sat slumped in a chair, staring out of the window. Outside, white clouds scudded across a blue sky, casting shadows on the lake, but he doubted Albus was taking in anything beyond the thoughts in his own head. He laid gentle hands on his shoulders, pushing his way beneath the drape of long hair to knead the base of his neck.

"Perhaps it is time to consider a different approach."

Albus shrugged his way out from under his hands. "Not now, Severus." He sounded wearier than Severus expected. "Just not now."

And with that, he rose and left.

Once again, Severus found himself shut out, helpless and impotent and alone with his rage. It was more than a man could bear.

*

He was still smouldering later that afternoon as he walked down the basement stairs at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He kept his footfalls quiet, careful to miss the squeaky third stair, listening to the low voices in the kitchen.

The first voice was the werewolf's; he would recognise that husky voice with its diffident tone anywhere. Though he could hear his voice, he didn't quite catch the content and was almost sorry as he entered the kitchen and the second voice resolved into Molly Weasley saying, "He'll be fine, just give him time."

They were sitting over the remains of a meal around one corner of the heavy kitchen table. Three plates, two empty and the other virtually untouched, were pushed into the middle of the table in front of them.

"Sometimes I find it hard to believe he's the same boy."

Molly's chuckle, warm and deep, resonated in silent room. She patted Remus's hand. "They all go through that phase. Little monsters," she said, a fond smile on her face. "You ought to have heard some of the things Bill said to me when he was that age. And he turned out just fine, didn't he, dear?"

"I'll take your word for it," Remus said, appearing unaccountably cheered by the news of Bill's misconduct. "Though I wish there were more I could do."

Severus rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, interrupting before the conversation became even more cloying.

Lupin swivelled round to face him.

"Severus," he said, his eyes narrowing, immediately on guard. "If you are looking for Albus, he has already gone back to Hogwarts."

"I am aware of that, Lupin. I have come to see Mr Potter. Where is he?"

Molly made a funny choked sound as she answered, "He's is Sirius's old room, poor lamb. He's refused to leave it at all today."

"Severus," Lupin said, getting up out of his chair, "what do you want with Harry?"

"Why, nothing. I have come to deliver his Potions text. That is all." Severus indicated the book he had tucked under his arm.

Lupin stretched out his hand. "Very well, I'll see he gets it."

"No," he said, taking a firmer grip on the book as though Lupin were about to tackle him for it. "No, this I believe I shall deliver personally."

He heard Molly's faint, "Oh dear," intertwined with Lupin's, "I really don't think..." as he turned and made his way up the stairs.

He heard them clatter up after him, naturally, and then part in the entrance hall after Lupin asked Molly to fetch Albus in a quiet, controlled voice. But he paid them no real heed, focussed as he was on the task at hand.

He hadn't thought it would be easy; in his experience, Gryffindors seldom reacted well to having their flaws exposed. But he hadn't counted on Potter's sheer unresponsiveness.

The boy didn't stir when he flung open the door, nor when he stalked inside, robes swirling provocatively. It was an act he had long perfected, and one calculated to goad Potter.

However, Potter just sat there, on Black's desk, in Black's room, frowning at nothing in particular. He had his chin on one knee while the other leg dangled below him, turning in endless circles.

Severus slammed the textbook down beside him. "So," he hissed, leaning in close, "it appears that, once again, Famous Harry Potter is to be considered above the rules."

"What?" Potter responded at last, turning expressionless eyes in his direction.

"Apparently, despite your dismal performance in my class during the past five years and your failure to achieve the required grade, you will be permitted to join my class again this year."

"I see," said Potter, shifting his gaze to the floor.

Fuming, Severus caught Potter's chin and yanked it upward. "Is that all you have to say?"

Something in Potter's eyes tightened at the touch, and he jerked his chin out of Severus's grasp. "Why're you really here?"

It was at that point that that the werewolf arrived. "Harry," he panted from his position at the door. "Harry, there's no need to listen to..."

But Potter was paying him no more mind than Severus was. "Why're you really here?" he asked again. "Dumbledore already told me that I've been accepted, and it's not like you'd do anything to make my life easier."

Severus backed off a couple of steps, just the tiniest bit flabbergasted by that. And Potter slid down from the desk, stalking after him. "I expect he forced you, didn't he? Twisted your arm, just like the Occlumency lessons. So come on, Professor, tell me why you're really here."

"You really do believe that's the natural order of things, don't you? That everybody else should run around smoothing the way for the Great Harry Potter."

"They don't," Potter said, a grimace twisting his lips around the words.

"Oh no? Then that's why you have been granted leave to attend my classes, why you have been moved here, though it is easier to protect you at your relatives' house, why your continued flouting of the rules has been overlooked again and again?"

"I don't," Potter said, his jaw set.

"Of course you don't," Severus said snidely. "Leaving aside your inability to follow the rules at school, there is always the decree for the reasonable restriction of underage wizardry to consider."

Potter's face flushed, and he shouted, "It was a _Dementor._"

"Yes, but wasn't there also an incident with your aunt in third year that the Ministry covered up?"

Potter gaped at him. "How do you know about that?"

"Never you mind, but I'd say it was about time somebody told you what was what."

"Professor Dumbledore wouldn't."

"No, he wouldn't, more's the pity. But I will, and you will listen to me. There is a war on, and we cannot afford to waste resources mollycoddling a spoiled child. Every moment that someone spends pandering to your brooding is a moment that is not spent fighting the Dark Lord. You do remember who he is, don't you?"

"I think that's quite enough, Severus." Though it had been Lupin, who had been standing at the door the whole time, it was Molly who cut in.

Surprised, Severus turned to look over his shoulder and caught Lupin eyeing him thoughtfully, a small furrow between his brows.

Molly pushed her way past Lupin, and came and put an arm around Harry. "I'm sure Harry understands you perfectly, right, Harry?"

Potter leaned into her, but Severus ignored their apparently united front and addressed his words to Potter alone.

"Just as long as you understand, Potter, that you will be in my class for the next two years, and if there's any more of this nonsense, you will pay."

He heard the creak of floorboards, and a smirk flickered across the boy's face. "I don't think I'm going to be the one paying, sir," Potter said.

Severus experienced a moment of consternation before he heard Albus say, "That will do, Harry."

He saw the flinch the boy couldn't quite suppress at the Headmaster's curt tone.

Molly's arm tightened around Potter as she said, "Albus, I don't think you quite understand what has been going on."

"On the contrary, Molly, I believe I understand perfectly," Albus replied.

Severus felt someone stop behind him and squeeze his shoulder. Looking down, he saw a familiar set of gnarled fingers clutching him, and gritted his teeth, wondering exactly what words the Headmaster would have for him. He wasn't sorry and would not pretend to be, not even for Albus, he decided.

But all Albus said was "I think you can trust me to take over from here, don't you, Severus?" He turned to discover that Albus was looking him full in the face. "But if you would wait for me in my office, I believe there are things we ought to discuss."

He gave Severus's shoulder another squeeze. There was almost an apology in his eyes, and Severus was suddenly infused with the certainty that Albus was really seeing him for the first time in weeks. Something loosened deep in his chest, and he nodded, releasing a shuddering breath.

As he left, he noted the look of startled comprehension in Lupin's eyes. But he felt Albus's warm gaze follow him all the way out the door like the first hint of summer after a long winter and that was all that mattered.


End file.
